


What Kind Of Ship Are We Sailing?

by Mokulule



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 3b Spoilers, Friendship, Gen, Memory Loss, Pre-Slash, Stilinski Family Feels, not 3B canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:02:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mokulule/pseuds/Mokulule
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Till the Embers Smoke on the Ground" by calrissian18 that I kind of roped myself into writing, when trying to ask for a sequel ;)</p>
<p>Derek, needing to know who Derek Hale is, goes through Stiles' stuff in search of answers. Meanwhile Stiles is lying to his dad again. It all comes to a head sooner than expected and Stiles is forced to reevaluate his definition of that thing between him and Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Kind Of Ship Are We Sailing?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [calrissian18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calrissian18/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Till the Embers Smoke on the Ground](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132259) by [calrissian18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calrissian18/pseuds/calrissian18). 



> So here it is, I hope you enjoy and that I properly conveyed all the feels I was talking about :) 
> 
> This story takes off more or less right after the previous ended.

**What Kind Of Ship Are We Sailing?**

The werewolf got an elbow to the face and startled into full awareness with a snarl. For a moment he didn't know where he was or who he was, then he remembered Stiles, and the fact that he couldn't remember, was actually the reason he was there. Derek, he was Derek. It still didn't feel as if he was this Derek Hale. From what Stiles had said he was not sure he wanted to be Derek Hale. He wanted to rid himself of the constant ache of loss in his chest and replace it with pack. He didn't want to be Derek Hale, whose closest person described himself as an ally.

He didn't know then, he'd already tried to build pack.

A whimper drew him out of his thoughts. Stiles was thrashing again and he would have gotten slapped if he hadn't caught the boy's wrist. There was a flash of something like familiarity, but it was gone before he could examine the feeling. Stiles struggled against him, whimpering and whispering desperately; "Don't let them in. Don't let them in. Have to close the door."

He frowned, unsure what he should do - if anything. He was an ally, not even a friend. What were the boundaries of their relationship? His instincts were very clear on what to do, but those were the instincts of a wolf and he was also a man. Human interactions were so complicated.

Stiles whimpered again and he thought, screw it, and drew him into his arms, back to his chest. He still struggled so Derek let the embrace be loose, more to say he was there than to hold him down. He buried his nose in the small hairs at Stiles' nape breathing in the only familiar scent that hadn't instinctively screamed distrust or betrayal. There was a sense memory there, something with chlorine, but it was as elusive as the last one.

"Don't let them in," Stiles repeated breathlessly.

"Sssh," he breathed against warm skin, "it's o-"

"Don't let them in."

"-kay."

"Don't let them in. Don't let them in."

"I won't let them in, Stiles. I'm right here. It's okay. They won't get to you." He kept muttering reassurances and at first he felt foolish, what was he even doing? But gradually Stiles relaxed against him, his heartbeat slowing down. He held on a bit tighter, found a hand that desperately held onto his in return. It was perhaps a minute or two before Stiles whispered, "Derek?"

There were a lot of emotions in that word; confusion, exhaustion... relief?

"Sleep Stiles," he said gently. He felt something like novelty, when Stiles did just that. What had he expected? That Stiles would jump out of the bed? That was ridiculous, he could practically smell the exhaustion on him. He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly through nose, feeling the short hairs of Stiles' nape tickling his skin as they were set in motion. It didn't matter. It was just another of those feelings he couldn't quite grasp the meaning behind, because he couldn't remember. Slowly he drifted back to sleep.

Oo o oO

Stiles awoke slowly. Warm, comfortable and more rested than he'd felt in a while - funny how not having to scream yourself awake did that. There was a slow, steady heartbeat next to his ear and strong arms around him. It felt _nice_ and he just wanted to stay there cocooned in warmth and safety and never get up. Sluggishly he buried deeper into the muscled cotton clad chest, which was when he remembered; Derek!

He jolted his head upwards connecting the top of his head hard with Derek's chin.

"Owowowow," he cursed as he sat up rubbing his head, tears pricking at his clenched shut eyes. He'd nearly not heard the subsequent bump because of his pain, but only nearly. He peaked open one eye to see big bad Derek Hale sleep ruffled, tangled in the sheets and on the floor rubbing his jaw, something like affront on his face.

You'd have to be some kind of saint not to find that image funny and Stiles was no saint. He was actually more of an asshole so of course he started laughing, loudly. It was actually a full body laugh, that had him writhing on the bed trying to catch his breath. Every time he thought he could stop, he looked at Derek glaring at him with his hair completely flattened one side and sticking up wildly on the other and well... God, he couldn't breathe!

"Are you done now?" Derek asked flatly, but he couldn't fool Stiles; there was some upwards twitching going on with those lips.

"Just one moment," he wheezed into his pillow holding up an index finger.

"Just asking, because your dad is coming up the stairs."

"What!" he exclaimed shooting upright and flailing his hands for balance. Derek the absolute bastard just smirked self satisfied still sitting on the floor. "Move, hide," he hissed pointing in the direction of the corner that was in a blind angle from the doorway. It was almost nostalgic really. Derek of course moved unbelievable slowly just to mess with him. Stiles had to resist the urge to bite his nails. Remembering Derek's shoes he hastily stood up and kicked them under the bed.

It was just in time as the door swung open after a single knock. His dad stood in the doorway wearing his uniform and a somewhat amused expression. Others might say exasperated, but Stiles knew his dad and that was definitely at least 30% amused.

"You okay, son? It sounded almost like someone was dying up here."

"Ha ha, you're a real comedian daddy-o, I was laughing."

He raised his eyebrows, wordlessly asking what could be so funny. Stiles panicked a bit inside, forcing himself not to look at Derek.

"I-I... This is gonna sound stupid," he said buying himself some time.

"Stiles." And that was his Stiles-I've-lived-with-you-your-entire-seventeen-year-old-life-I-may-be-exasperated-but-I'm-rarely-surprised-anymore voice. He grimaced, knowing he had to lie to his dad again. His dad might slowly be adjusting to the supernatural world, but he was definitely not going to accept Derek Hale in his son's bedroom where he'd just spent the night, it wouldn't matter to him that Derek had lost his memories.

"I kind of woke up by falling out of the bed," he rambled gesturing to the sheets at his feet. "Then I had the thought that it was a lot nicer than waking up screaming and it was just really absurd that waking up by falling out my bed was a nice thing and then I couldn't stop laughing." He ended with a awkward half laugh.

His dad's face turned pained and he looked away for a moment. Stiles eyes widened and he glanced at Derek, who just looked bewildered, but Stiles knew what would happen next if he didn't do something.

Quickly he stepped forward catching his dad in a hug before he could move more than a step into the room to do the same to Stiles. The hug was crushing.

"I'm sorry Dad, I don't mean to worry..."

"No Stiles, you tell me, okay? I'm your dad, worrying is in the job description. No more secrets."

He winced inwardly and nodded, because he didn't trust his voice right then. He got a clap on his back signaling the end of the hug. When they stood an arms length from each other the sheriff clasped a hand to his shoulder looking him over thoughtfully.

"You look better today. Like you've actually gotten some sleep." He smiled and squeezed his shoulder lightly.

"Yeah I have," he said with a small smile in return. Surreptitiously he moved so that he leaned against the open door and covered Derek. Until then it had only been the sheriff's focus on his son that had saved Derek from discovery after he'd taken that step inside.

"Well then, I'm off to work. Don't be late for school." He pointed at Stiles with a reprimanding finger.

Stiles gave him a shit-eating grin. "Wouldn't dream of it."

He just shook his head fondly, before turning and walking towards the stairs. Stiles closed the door as softly as he could and leaned against it in relief. Some part of him half expected Derek to be right in his face pushing him against the door for old times' sake, but Derek wasn't quite Derek right now, so naught of that.

Oo o oO

Derek was sitting on the bed leaning against the headboard with a book (reading was something he still remembered at least) while Stiles scrambled around stuffing various books into his backpack. He was cursing Derek lowly under his breath blaming him for his lateness, probably neither realizing he was doing it or that Derek could actually hear it.

They had eaten breakfast together in Stiles' room until he'd taken a glance at his phone. Then he'd suddenly gotten busy.

"Okay, I think that was everything," Stikes said straightening up after fishing out a chemistry report that had fallen under his desk. He slung his backpack over his shoulder. "Look, you don't have to stay here if you don't want to, but I think it's best as few people as possible know you're back, considering the whole memory loss thing." He did this full-body shrug.

"So anyway, see ya later," he made finger guns and a tight smile in Derek's direction while walking backwards out the door. Derek looked at him with an unimpressed eyebrow raised and counted down in his head. 3. 2. And Stiles hit the door jamb with his shoulder nearly knocking himself to the floor. He scrambled upwards hands scrabbling madly for purchase on the offending door jamb.

"I-, yeah," he sent a glare at the door jamb. Derek had to pretend to be very engrossed in his book to hide his smile.

"Have a good day Stiles, try not to break your neck," he said mildly, still staring determinedly down at his book.

"Har-de-har, you just try not to burn the house down."

Derek felt a sudden shift in the mood and looked up. Stiles was staring at him in open mouthed horror.

"Oh God, Derek, I'm sorry I didn't mean that. It just slipped out."

"Of course you didn't mean that," he said confusedly and with a great deal exasperation, "it's just an expression. I know it's an expression. It's not my language skills that are missing."

Stiles just continued to look contrite.

"Sorry," he said again before fleeing, making Derek realize there was probably more to it than Stiles thinking he hadn't understood an expression.

He needed answers. Stiles might believe he was better off not knowing until he remembered by himself, that he was doing him some sort of favor by letting him be in blissful ignorance, but he already knew most of his family was dead. It couldn't get much worse than that, right? He wanted those answers, he needed to know who he was. He looked around the room and the walls plastered with research, crime scene photos and the red strings interconnecting everything. Derek had this _mysterious_ hunch that Stiles' room was the place to get those answers.

Oo o oO

Stiles entered his room without knocking, why should he, it was his room?

"So my Dad won't be home until..." He trailed off as he took in the mess his room had turned into. Papers were strewn over his bed and the floors, not unlike when he'd go on one of his research all-nighters. Derek was sitting cross legged on the floor with his back to the door and a very familiar cardboard box in front of him. Stiles felt his heart drop into his stomach and his backpack slip from loose fingers.

It was the box that held all the research he'd done around the time Scott was first turned. Glancing at the papers on the bed, he concluded Derek had worked his way through the kamina debacle, the Darach murders were still on his evidence board (so there was no way he hadn't seen those) and the file open in his lap could only really be _the one_ with the way his shoulders were hunched; the Hale fire police report, that Stiles might have nicked a copy of.

"The woman on the board. The one who sacrificed all those people. She's connected to me, why?" Derek asked in a too steady voice.

Stiles winced, not fooled at all. This was gonna explode in his face.

"You dated her for a short while." Derek shoulders seemed to collapse even further into himself so he barged on; "If it helps, I have a theory she used the power she got from the virgin sacrifices to seduce you. It kinda went suspiciously fast and you're not usually so trusting."

Derek huffed mirthlessly. "It doesn't really, but thank you for trying. Now the young girl, Paige, she's also connected to me and that tree stump you have at the center of it all."

"According to Peter; your first love. Supposedly you got your blue eyes ending her suffering when her body was rejecting the bite, but I hadn't really gotten around to ask you about that before you left, so I don't know how much of that story is true."

That got a reaction out of Derek and he looked over his shoulder incredulously. His eyes were glassy and red rimmed from unshed tears.

"You were going to ask me, if I _killed_ the first person I loved?"

Stiles heart maybe broke a bit for Derek Hale, like the first time he'd heard this story and he'd realized how much Derek just couldn't catch a break. But Derek didn't want pity, he wanted answers, so Stiles would give them to him.

"If I had to. Peter told me that story. I have no idea what was truth or lie or what his agenda was for telling me in the first place, so yes I would have asked you."

"Then there's Kate Argent, it says here she killed my family."

"Yes," Stiles answered though he knew he was not done, that he was getting to something specific. Something he could see clear as day in his mind.

"Your dad, I'm assuming, has added a little note 'has to have had someone inside'," he paused as if gauging Stiles' reaction before continuing, "and then in your handwriting it says 'Derek'. Care to explain?"

Stiles closed his eyes taking a deep breath before responding, hoping he wouldn't have to spell it out further for him, "you've had real shit luck in your love life." Life in general really, but that was too depressing to say out loud.

Derek was silent for what felt like forever. Stiles could feel then tension rising with every excruciatingly painful second. Would he just react already!

"Why do I even trust anyone," Derek mumbled at the file in his lap, he turned accusing eyes at Stiles. "Why the Hell do I trust _you_?"

He'd raised his voice, not quite yelling, but he was definitely angry and Stiles, well he was just too wound up from this, not to mention the hallucinations, his fluctuating reading ability, lying to his dad again, worrying about Scott and Allison, everything basically.

"How should I know?" He screamed. "You've specifically told me you don't trust me, I'm as surprised as you are!"

Derek seemed a bit stumped for about two seconds, before his eyebrows drew back down. He stood up and got right into Stiles face, eyes flashing blue.

"Well then theorize something for me," He returned gesturing violently at the evidence wall. "Isn't that what you do?"

Stiles was at a loss for words because, yes, that was what he did. He took a step back and sort of fell into his office chair letting the momentum roll him a bit away from all this. He looked at all the red threads, not really looking at this board but a different one in his mind, cataloging every interaction he'd had with Derek Hale. He frowned thoughtfully, there was something of a pattern.

'Once is an incidence, two's a coincidence, three's a pattern,' his Dad's voice said in his head and he wanted to ask it, 'what's something around ten, if four is enough for a warrant?'

"We do have this sort of mutual life saving thing going on... And come to think of it you've been much more patient with me..." He started but then trailed off. There had been a distinct lack of physical threats and much more willingness to hear him out lately. Derek might actually trust him and that was just, his mind was blown. Derek _had_ said he trusted him. That was the very reason he was here after all, but Derek wasn't exactly himself. While he'd accepted that this Derek trusted him, it wasn't the same as realizing real Derek might actually trust him. Hence the speechlessness and blowing of the mind.

With some valid reasons coming forth, it seemed Derek's anger had drained away. He sat down on the bed facing Stiles.

"Explain the life saving."

And Stiles did. He talked and talked and talked. He had to explain a lot of background and before he knew it, he'd more or less explained all that'd happened since Scott got bitten. When Stiles had gotten to the time he held Derek's sorry paralyzed ass above water for two hours before Scott arrived, Derek had definitely tried and failed to look unimpressed. There had also been a strange look of sudden understanding, that Stiles had no idea how to interpret.

Stiles slowly realized that he trusted Derek with his life, maybe even his dad's life, because Derek understood how much Stiles' last living relative meant to him. When his dad was taken by the Darach, they'd gone to Derek immediately expecting him to trust them above his girlfriend and he had (despite theorized magical seduction) and that was amazing.

"And yet, we're not even friends," Derek said tiredly when Stiles was finally done. He felt hoarse from talking.

"Look Derek, I _care_. Okay? I just wouldn't call us friends. I don't know what we are," he shrugged helplessly, trying to convey how it frustrated him. They were silent for maybe ten seconds.

"Could we be friends?" Derek asked quietly, and it had taken a lot of courage to ask that.

"I don't know Derek, you're not even really yourself right now. Who's to say you actually want to be friends with me? In fact I think you usually find me kind of obnoxious," he joked trying to lighten the mood a bit. In reality he just couldn't take the thought of Derek becoming his friend only to come to his senses when he got his memories back and leave again. Stiles had issues with people leaving, okay?

"I don't think I do."

Stiles shook himself out of his thoughts, "sorry what?"

"Find you obnoxious," Derek explained, "I don't think I do."

Stiles stared open mouthed for a bit before he went; "psst, yeah right." Which was the exact moment there was a knock on the door and his dad walked in.

Why had neither of them heard anything! Seriously what was the point of having a werewolf around if it didn't prevent you from getting sneaked up on.

He stopped dead, looking from Derek on the bed to Stiles in the chair. Stiles stood up, unconsciously stepping between his Dad and Derek.

"Yeeesh, Dad. With the entering without permission," Stiles spluttered. "I could have been masturbating."

"A word, son," the sheriff said before settling a hand on Stiles' neck and guiding him firmly towards the door. He threw a tight smile and a nod over his shoulder at Derek, "Hale."

"Sir," Derek returned before the door shut.

"What is going on here?" He hissed into Stiles face. "I thought you said he left town?"

"You do know he can hear us perfectly, right?"

His dad threw his hands in the air, taking a step away before turning back.

"Let me just keep my illusions and answer the damn question."

"He did leave, but now he's back," and okay Stiles might have sounded a bit too cheerful at that, judging by his father's very unamused expression. The sheriff tilted his head down slightly and raised both eyebrows while making a go on gesture with his hand.

"And... ah, yeah, the answer to the other question, I knew that." He clenched his left hand and shook it a bit restlessly. "It's actually a really funny story."

"Stiles."

"And moving straight to the point, that's why you're such a great interrogator."

The sheriff let go of a long suffering sigh and that kind of hurt. Stiles was just not looking forward to his dad's reaction, that was no reason to bring out the _sigh._

"The point, which I'm getting to." Stiles jaw worked at bit looking for the right words, but none were forthcoming. In the end he just blurted; "So Derek is kind of staying here..."

"What!?"

"In hindsight, that was probably the worst way to start that," he mumbled wanting to kick himself.

"Wait a minute."

He snapped back to his dad, only to see that look of dawning realization he had when he was just about to solve a case. "No no no," he urged, reflexively reaching a hand forth as if he could somehow stop the gears from clicking into place.

"He was in your room this morning." There was a look of horror on his dad's face and Stiles knew he had to stop him right here, before he went further down that line of thought.

"Dad, it's not what you think."

"Is this because of that time I brushed you off, when you tried to tell me you were gay? Is that why you were hiding this? Because I'm sorry about that. But Hale, Stiles? You couldn't have found someone your own age?"

"What? no! I mean, I'm actually bisexual and Derek might have tangentially been related to me figuring that out, but that doesn't have anything to do with _this!_ " He waved his arms wildly.

The sheriff looked pained in the too-much-information way.

"Derek and I are not romantically or sexually involved," Stiles stressed. "There was _sleeping_ , actual sleeping going on, because Derek's lost all his memories and needed a safe place to stay."

"And that was in the room of the sheriff's underage son? Jesus, Stiles, if he's suffering from memory loss shouldn't he be in a hospital?"

"We took him to Deaton," Stiles defended, "he said there was nothing to do but wait until the memories came back by themselves."

"And what were you thinking? You were just gonna hide him in your room until then? Sneak him food when I wasn't looking?" He asked incredulously.

"Wouldn't have been the first time," Stiles mumbled petulantly before slapping a hand over his mouth.

"What!? No, wait," he said rubbing a hand tiredly over his face. "I don't even want to know. He can't stay here Stiles."

"Dad."

"Stiles, no."

"It's dangerous for him. He's... He's a friend, okay? Dad, Daddy?" And he was pleading, because that was a thing he did for Derek Hale now. But he had kind of promised Derek he could stay (even if he'd never said those words directly) and after the emotional wringer he'd gone through today Stiles really didn't want to throw him to the curb. Derek didn't even know where he lived for crying out loud. He grasped desperately for any reason at all to dissuade his dad.

"I actually slept last night," he exclaimed.

His dad sent him a nonplussed look.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Don't you see? The one night I actually get some sleep is the night Derek is here."

"Stiles." He was clearly not convinced.

"No, you don't understand. I feel safe with Derek there. He's saved my life several times, he's saved yours. That should count for something, right? I had a nightmare, but he woke me up before it became too bad and I could actually go back to sleep."

"Son." He was wavering now and Stiles knew he'd chosen the correct strategy, even if it hurt to see his dad reminded of how he would wake up screaming.

"Dad."

"Okay, you win," he sighed rubbing a hand through his hair, "But if he's a guest, he eats downstairs like the rest of us." He raised a reprimanding finger, before grabbing Stiles and pulling him into a sudden hug. "You really think he's helping?"

"I know he is. It's kind of complicated, but I know he is," he said into his father's neck going sort of boneless, because they were okay.

The Sheriff pulled back.

"Just don't tell me anything about sleeping arrangements."

Stiles sputtered, but he just turned and walked towards the stairs.

"And I expect you both down in half an hour, I'm ordering meat lovers and you can't stop me."

" _Nothing_ is going on!"

"I don't wanna know," he sing-songed.

"Aaaargh!" For a moment he just stood there panting, glaring at the top of the stairs, eye twitching. Then he spun around and walked back into his room. He _knew_ nothing was going on, that was why he teased him. Otherwise Derek would not still be in his room, he would be arrested, Stiles told himself firmly.

Oo o oO

Derek sat back up when Stiles came back in the room. He'd tried not to listen in on the Stilinskis' conversation, but it hard been hard when not focusing just drew him right back in the swirl of emotions going through Stiles' research had given him. He'd actually thought it couldn't get any worse than knowing almost his entire family was dead. Stiles' apology from this morning for his comment about burning the house down made absolute horrific sense.

But that wasn't all. He'd apparently had another pack for a short while, most of which were also dead now. Dead. Dead. Dead.

It wasn't really a wonder, it was hard not to listen in. Stiles felt safe with him there. How could he, when he brought death everywhere he went?! But still it was an admittance (even if not given directly to him) that warmed that cold place of loss in his chest. Giving him hope that maybe, Derek Hale wasn't too bad a person. He at least had one person who had faith in him. And he'd also called him friend, which was exactly what he needed to ask him about, because they had been interrupted right in the middle of that discussion.

"Friends?"

"Yeah, we'll call it that" Stiles replied, dropping down beside him. "No take-backsies, we have a firm no return policy on friendships here at casa de Stilinski."

Derek snorted and Stiles companionably knocked their shoulders together.

They didn't really know what _it_ was. It wasn't really pack, but it wasn't something as clinical as allies either. For now they'd go with friendship, at least until it developed into something they could put another name to. And Derek? He felt a spark of something like happiness keeping the loss at bay. It was enough.

_Sometimes a little can make quite a difference ~ Deaton, ep 2x12_


End file.
